


Almost Too Much

by EdgarAllenPoet



Series: Kinktober2018 [6]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Depression, Dom/sub, F/M, Masochism, Rough Sex, Sadism, Self-Destruction, Strength Kink, kink as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 12:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16304945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarAllenPoet/pseuds/EdgarAllenPoet
Summary: "They’d been born of violence, raised in violence, and sculpted for violence.  They’d worked their entire adult lives to escape that violence, to have some taste of normalcy in their fucked up lives, to find some kind of stability.This wasn’t stable.  This wasn’t normal."





	Almost Too Much

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober! Sadomasochism and muscles. Almost did body swap for these two, but that would have been more goofy than kinky.

It was almost too much to ask of her.  Almost. It would have been, if she hadn’t been where he’d been.  Hadn’t seen what he’d seen. Didn’t know what hell he was raised in and what demons danced under his skin, in his head, at the corners of rooms that blurred together on particularly bad days. 

 

She knew everything, his strengths and weaknesses and history.  She’d been there, done that. She was there for the breakdowns and the bad nights.  She’d seen the worst of him, the worst of anything in the universe. 

 

It was still almost too much to ask of her. 

 

They’d been born of violence, raised in violence, and sculpted for violence.  They’d worked their entire adult lives to escape that violence, to have some taste of normalcy in their fucked up lives, to find some kind of stability. 

 

This wasn’t stable.  This wasn’t normal. 

 

He almost hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. 

 

But with Scott it was all or nothing, and he knew that if he didn’t get this he’d go for something worse.  If he didn’t get hurt, he’d do it himself. 

 

And well… If Scott trusted anyone to hurt him…. It was her. 

 

The problem was he loved her.  He loved her in a way he’d never thought he’d love anything.  She was his whole world, the morning and night, and the only one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.  There was life and death and Barda. 

 

And she’d been raised in that violence.  She was trying to escape it too. But she knew something was wrong, kept trying to get him to talk about it.  She was too smart for him. It was this or something else, he reasoned, and he asked her to hurt him. 

 

She was good at it, too, was the scary thing. Of course she was.  She was raised for this. 

 

He loved her, he trusted her, and as she shoved his locked arms to the very limits of his shoulders and ground his face into the floor, he was terrified that she was going to kill him.  She was strong, strong enough to pick him up with one hand and toss him onto the bed. Scott bounced once, twice, and knocked into the headboard. He groaned. Barda grabbed his ankles and dragged him back, until his ass was at the edge of the bed and his legs were around her hips. His body was singing with adrenaline, but there was nothing to escape.  He couldn’t ever run from her.

 

Her palm cracked across his face, a stinging pain that rocked his teeth and left the taste of blood in his mouth.  He scrunched up his nose and squinted through the tears in his eyes, found her looking down at him curiously, studying him like a project. 

 

She used nothing on him but her own hands, for control, for intimacy, but that didn’t stop her from leaving fiery welts from Scott’s shoulders to the backs of his knees.  They stung against the sheets. She’d bitten him too, left bruises on the insides of his thighs, his hips, his stomach, and a nasty one on his upper arm that was crusted with blood.  His face hurt. His scalp was sensitive from being tugged around by his hair. He’d be sitting on bruises for a few good days. But it wasn’t enough. 

 

He needed…. He needed to be whipped within and inch of his life, or beaten bloody in a back alley.  He needed to turn himself in as a war criminal or pick a fight in a back alley, he needed the kind of pain that swallowed him whole and enveloped him and kept him distracted for days.  He needed an excuse to be miserable, something tangible that matched the hurricane shitshow in his own head. He needed to  _ hurt _ .  He deserved it. He- 

 

Pain erupted between his legs, and a scream ripped out of Scott’s throat without him even realizing what he was doing.  Barda studied him with a firm glare, hand raised in warning, like she would not hesitate to smack his cock again. 

 

He gasped in his breaths and she asked, “Bored?”  He blinked at her, and she smacked him again, too fast to stop, and  _ oh God _ ,  _ this was going to kill him. _

 

“Aaah!” he screamed, hands scrambling to cover himself as he curled into the fetal position.  It was almost no effort for her to catch his wrists and pin them above his head with one hand, shoving him flat on his back with the other.  She glared down at him. 

 

“That better, Scott?” she asked.  “That the pain you were looking for?”

 

“I’m sorry!” he gasped out.  She raised her hand and he flinched, and they held eye contact for a long moment. 

 

Then she smacked him, and Scott jolted off the bed.  She held him down as he arched and bucked and cried, and words were pouring out of him in a nonsense stream now.   _ No _ ’s and  _ please _ ’s and  _ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, please _ .

 

“Shhhh,” she soothed, hand cupping him gently and rubbing, not soothing anything.  She pinched his perineum, sharp fingernails against delicate skin. He dropped his head back and screamed.

 

“You’re going to cum with my teeth at your throat,” she instructed.  She let go of his balls, and Scott was willing to do anything she asked so long as she kept those poisonous fingernails far, far away from his balls.  

 

“Yes,” he gasped.  “Yes, yes, I will, anything you want, anything.” 

 

“Shhhhh,” she said again.  Her hand slid over the skin of his inner thigh, and he relaxed into it for a few seconds until she raised it again and smacked him.  The skin there was so delicate, Scott felt lightning-like jolts of pain shoot through his every cell. He sobbed out his next breath, tears stinging his eyes.  

 

“You ready?” Barda asked, and Scott nodded stupidly.  He didn’t have a coherent thought in his head besides  _ ow _ and  _ more _ and  _ please _ .  His dick, apparently recovered from the abuse, was half hard and sagging between his thighs.  Barda wrapped her fingers around him and arousal shot straight down through his groin. 

 

“The faster you cum, the sooner I stop,” Barda said, and Scott had to wonder what that meant until her teeth sunk into the skin of his throat and Scott’s body once against exploded in pain. 

 

Her hand moved fast and efficiently, quickly bringing him to full hardness.  Despite that, Scott couldn’t help but fight against her. It  _ hurt _ .  It hurt, and she was going to draw blood, and it hurt  _ so bad _ he couldn’t think of anything else.  He tried to breathe through the pain, but it was overwhelming.  His gasps turned to whimpers, and when those were ignored, shouts and pleads and cries, but she was big enough to hold him down and keep him there, and Scott could kick and fight and cry all he wanted with no results.  

 

His neck throbbed, and his dick just grew harder and harder.  Heat pulled between his legs, his balls drawing up tight despite the broken cries of  _ please, Barda, please no more _ between choked sobs.  He kicked out and bucked away, and she pulled him back quickly, hand spanking his hip with such force that he couldn’t imagine trying to move again.  

 

The pain washed over him in waves, and he felt a familiar fire spread through his body as his orgasm hit him, rushing through his limbs and towards the center of his body, shooting out of him, the pain making it rise and rise until he was shaking, soaring, not even in his own head. 

 

The only thing that hurt worse than the bite was when she let him go, teeth pulling at his skin and blood flooding back to the wounded area.  Scott groaned, hands coming up to cradle his throat as he writhed against the bed. 

 

Barda’s hands were all over him, petting him and checking him over.  She pressed kisses to his forehead, nose, cheeks. Scott felt her catch tears on her lips.  

 

“So good,” she whispered, and Scott was too tired to tell her she was wrong.  “You took that so well. You’re so good. So perfect.” 

 

He wasn’t quite high enough to believe her, but he was high enough not to argue.  He was high enough to get absolutely lost in her heat as she picked him up and cradled him, carrying him out of the bedroom to put him back together and take care of him.  

 

It was almost too much to ask of her.  He should have been able to take care of himself, but if she was offering, well… there wasn’t anyone Scott trusted more to destroy him.  Wasn’t anyone else in the world he wouldn’t try and escape from.


End file.
